


Good Intentions

by HolyPlasmaBall



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Almaren, Aulë pov, Gen, before Years of the Lamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyPlasmaBall/pseuds/HolyPlasmaBall
Summary: Mairon outshines his peers. Aulë restores balance.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Good Intentions

By measure of power and potency Mairon was no different from the rest, yet the quality of his works exceeded all else, for in the labours of will he was unparalleled. Keen was his eye and unerring his hand, and it seemed he remembered all that was said.

Be that as it may, Aulë was soon to learn of the perils of perfection. For instead of finding Mairon an example to strive for, all who worked alongside him were discouraged, and where his works of wonder were set on display others took down their own in shame.

The fault lay not with Mairon, for long since had he learned to hold his tongue, and ever courteous were his words of guidance. And yet they were all of them troubled, for as blameless as Mairon was, the despair he brought on could no longer be denied.

It was with the purpose of resolving these woes Aulë sought the counsel of the Lady. In the lantern-lit garden he spoke at length of his predicament and Yavanna listened in silence.

“Excess of light or dark wilts a flower in like manner”, said Yavanna once Aulë finished. “It is not only those around him you should be mindful of. Too bright a flame smothers itself.”

“I had hoped to make him my substitute,” said Aulë.

“You cannot grow a tree out of a flower.”

“This one is determined to grow all on his own.”

“You cannot do this, for the stem will snap under the weight of the bloom.”

Though Mairon’s native talent could not be entirely discounted, it was mostly by virtue of his diligence his efforts would culminate at such sublime ends. Weary were the late hours he worked himself, and these were the moments of struggle Aulë bethought himself of at Yavanna’s word.

To forfend what he may, Aulë soon took action and began to cultivate all those who languished in his charge. With recognition he lauded those who went unnoticed, and those who were daunted by failure he made rethink their furrows and clefts as features. No more nor less he gave Mairon, for praise to a craftsman was as water was to flowers, and he would see balance restored into his house.

And so, when the Lamps were made ready and it came time to assemble them, Aulë did what he must and refused Mairon as his aid. Instead he chose the hands that fumbled, the minds that knew little of songs of solder, and he gave them the task so they might learn and grow in confidence. Yet his heart wept for the hope that failed in Mairon at his choice, and as the maia gave his curt bow, frigid with unshed tears, Aulë knew he must not allow his flight.

All things could be repaired, and so he assayed for the mending words, and stayed the maia in the doorway of his study.

“It is not a question of skill”, said he. “Your work is exemplary. Ever have you been timely and reliable. My choice was made by other merits.”

“I understand, my lord”, said Mairon lightly. He turned, and where Aulë had imagined tears his eyes were dry. “All is well.”

“More opportunities shall arise in time. Of this I am certain.”

Mairon smiled, and his face was akin to a flower’s likeness carved from metal; perfect and devoid of life.

“All is well.” 


End file.
